


Go Preen Yourself

by Forest_Girl



Series: Danero Week 2019 [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: (sort of), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apologies, Awkward Conversations, Coming In Pants, Denial of Feelings, Devil Trigger (Devil May Cry), Devil Trigger (Devil May Cry) Sex, Embarrassment, Hair Brushing, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Nero’s Spectral Arms, Pining, Sin Devil Trigger (Devil May Cry), Tension, Wing Grooming, Wings, as close as apologzing as you can get with dante and nero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-26 15:29:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20744483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forest_Girl/pseuds/Forest_Girl
Summary: Nero cared about his hygiene, but not to the point of having an entire morning routine dedicated to keeping himself clean-shaved and nice-looking. He kept himself clean, made sure to shower after every job, the usual.Except, there’s apparently an entire ‘demon thing’ about cleaning yourself, and it was apparently a somewhat intimate act between mates—which Dante’s demon apparently assumed they were.So… yeah. Awkward, to say the least.





	1. Chapter 1

The whole thing started, like most things in Nero’s life did, with a fight.

Thankfully (or maybe not, depending on how he looked at it), this was a fight he signed up for. Devil May Cry had been given a decently large order by a construction crew looking to tear down an old hospital, which got infected with a nest of Arachne at one point or another, and they’d already lost a few workers. Despite that, no one on the site knew where the main nest was, so he and Dante decided to work together to cover as much territory as possible so that they could finish up nice and quick.

It took about two hours for them to find the actual nest, killing a some small fries that spread out to the other levels along the way. Once they regrouped, it was a long, arduous fight. The Arachnes were weak to fire, which both him and Dante were more than proficient with, but there were  _ so many _ that they couldn’t get through to take out the nest, which kept spawning a seemingly endless amount of demons. 

Eventually, after whittling through enough of the small Arachne, their bigger, greener cousins decided to show up. They took a lot more effort to wear down, even with Red Queen at full Exceed and Dante darting in with Balrog. After the many hours spent searching through the hospital, Nero was getting worn down, which made his fighting sloppy and messing with his reaction time. 

Eventually, one got a lucky hit on Nero, smacking into his back and knocking him down to the ground. Before he could recover, it stabbed both its scythe-like arms through his back and into the ground. Nero let out a gurgling scream and let go of Red Queen so he could reach for his holster and grab Blue Rose, hoping to fire a charged shot at its legs to get rid of it.

A blur of black and burning red tackled the Arachne before Nero could try anything, a deafening roar drowning out his pained grunt as its claws were pulled out of his back. Giving himself a moment to recover, Nero picked himself off the ground, grabbing Red Queen as he went.

Looking up, Nero saw Dante, now triggered, completely laying waste to the Arachne, ripping them into pieces with his bare hands while also tossing bolts of energy at their nest. The intricate mess of webbing caught fire easily, lighting up the darkened floor like a bonfire.

Without any more reinforcements or a place to hide, the remaining Arachne tried their best, but Dante easily cleaved them in two with his sword. Nero chose to hang back, taking out the few that tried to run for it, and shooting charged shots at any that were climbing the walls.

Before long, the last of the Arachne were killed, the nest was burning away on the far wall, and the job was done. Nero holstered his weapons and dusted off his hands, taking the time to try and wipe as much of the green, goopy blood off his coat as possible. He’d  _ definitely  _ have to stop by the laundromat after taking a shower back at the shop, because he was covered—

The wind was forcibly knocked out of Nero’s lungs as he was, once again, tackled to the ground. Dante leered over him, a rumble echoing from deep within his chest as one of his hands pressed against his chest, keeping him pinned. 

“What the hell!” Nero wheezed as his fingers scrabbled at Dante’s wrist, but it obviously didn’t have any effect. Blunt, human nails couldn’t do a lot of damage to thick demonic scales. “Snap out of it, jackass! I’m not a giant spider!”

Dante didn’t respond, leaning closer to Nero’s and breathing out, a cloud of steam puffing from his mouth. Gritting his teeth, Nero leaned his head back, waiting for Dante to inch closer again before headbutting Dante directly in his face.

Pain seared through Nero’s forehead, and he hissed out a curse. Thankfully, despite doing no damage whatsoever, Dante pulled back, his wings flapping as he jumped away from him. Bright light surrounded his body, and he went back to his human form, holding his nose tenderly in his hand. Dante looked around, confused, “What happened?”

“What  _ happened?” _ Nero ground out, sitting up as he pressed against the tender spot on his forehead. “You tackled me, jackass! What, are you so senile now you can’t tell me apart from a spider demon?”

Dante blinked at him and looked around the room, his gaze fixating on the nest burning away before he looked back at Nero, utter confusion written across his face.

Nero’s glare softened, and he stood up, hobbling over to Dante while rolling his shoulders, hoping that the massive holes in his back and chest would heal soon. He placed his hand on Dante’s arm. “Are you alright? I think I busted your nose up, which is pretty impressive considering your triggered form doesn’t  _ have _ a nose.”

Dante leaned into his hand for a few seconds before forcibly turning around, severing the contact. “I’m fine. Let’s… get back to the shop.”

Dante walked away from the battlefield littered with Arachne corpses, and Nero felt like something vaguely important had passed by, and he hadn’t even noticed.

* * *

“So…” Dante flopped on the office’s couch next to Nero the next morning, crossing one leg over the other while he pressed a bag of ice to his nose. “I think I owe you an explanation.”

“Yeah, you do.” Nero looked up from his disassembling of Red Queen’s engine, pausing his painstakingly slow maintenance of her engine. Blue Rose was also on the table in front of him, the chamber unloaded for him to clean faster once he was done with his sword. “Do you really need the ice pack?”

“Nah, but it makes me feel better.” Dante rolled his head to the right, giving Nero a snarky grin. “Come on, I look pretty pathetic, don’t I?”

“You always do.” Nero gently lifted Red Queen and placed her next to Blue Rose, then turned to face Dante completely, leaning against the arm of the couch. “Quit beating around the bush old man.”

Dante held up his hand in surrender and sighed. “Alright, alright.”

A few moments of silence passed where Dante removed the ice bag from his face and started throwing it up and down. Nero glared at him, more than done with him stalling. “Dante.”

“Okay, so… It’s a demon thing.” He began, grimacing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I mean, obviously, but it normally wouldn’t be a problem, but my demon’s been throwing a fit over it and it’s getting worse.”

“Wait, so this has been going on for a while?” Nero was concerned, at the very least. If he was experiencing black outs while triggering, that didn’t exactly spell out anything good for the future.

“Yeah, sort of.” Dante paused, kicking his leg up and down. “It’s… so, demons  _ do  _ keep themselves clean, just not with water and a nice shower like humans do. Saw it in hell a fair bit, a couple packs of demons were cleaning themselves, making their scales shine, cleaning their wings, the whole shebang.”

“Okay?” Nero’s concern changed into confusion. “Where are you going with this?”

“My demon wants to groom you.” Dante blurted out. “It doesn’t care if you’re triggered or human, it wants to do it. And… that’s normally only something mated demons do together, so…” Dante trailed off, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah.”

An awkward silence settled between them, neither knowing what to say. Nero didn’t know whether to flush or pale at the information, a part of him flattered that Dante would want to care for him like that. It was like all his little crushes and idiotically hormonal thoughts over the years had finally come true.

But it wasn’t. It was Dante’s demon and all its instincts taking reign and doing whatever the fuck it wanted. 

“I mean… Could be worse.” Dante continued after a few minutes. “I know a woman, name's Lucia, whose Devil Trigger is just  _ covered _ with feathers. Can’t imagine how much of a pain it is to clean herself with all of  _ that  _ going on, especially since she was the kind of gal who’d go nuts over a little bit of mud.”

“You’re avoiding the issue here.” Nero growled. “Why does your demon want to do this if it’s a… Y’know…”

“A mate thing?” Nero blushed and refused to look at Dante. “I mean, it doesn’t  _ have _ to be a mate thing. My demon kind of… wants to fawn over you and clean you up whenever I trigger, that’s all.”

Nero blushed and did his best to trample down the warmth blooming in his chest—it wasn’t Dante, not really, he just had to keep reminding himself of that. “Well, then, don’t trigger. That solves it, right?”

“For now, yeah.” Dante nudged his shoulder, and, out of the corner of his eye, Nero saw a faint grimace on Dante’s face. “But it’s only a matter of time until my demon starts influencing me when I’m  _ not _ triggered. I mean, you saw what happened today—I lost control, and we’re lucky that nothing serious happened.”

“I broke your nose?” Nero said, if only to try and stop Dante’s self-deprecating tone.

It worked, judging by Dante’s low chuckle. “That you did. But the next time we fight some demons, it might happen again, and I might not snap out of it.”

“What, do you think I can’t fight you off?” Nero glared at Dante, his right hand tightening into a fist. Both Dante and Vergil should know by now he’s more than capable of kicking either of their asses, and he could take whatever they could dish out.

“Nah, you’re probably the only one who could throw me out of the shop and I’d stay out.” Dante gave him a sad smile, and Nero let the tension fall out of his hand, instead deciding to hold his knee cap. “But… Nero, I don’t want to hurt you—or  _ try _ to hurt you, because you wouldn’t take anything lying down. I’d feel like shit, and I don’t want anything to happen,  _ period.” _

Nero pressed his lips together and turned from Dante. His chest clenched, and he did his best to keep his expression neutral. This wasn’t something he should feel upset about, but he couldn’t help it either, wishing that this was Dante’s way of showing affection rather than him slowly losing control over his demonic instincts. It’s not even really Nero’s problem—the opposite, actually, he was the  _ cause— _ so he shouldn’t even feel bad about it.

But he couldn’t look at Dante’s dejected expression without feeling like he had to do  _ something. _

“Well…” Nero scratched his nose. “Your demon just wants to…  _ clean _ me? And whenever it takes over, you black out until you de-trigger?”

“More or less.” Dante confirmed.

“Okay, so… what if you triggered right now and let it do whatever it wants?” The idea came out like an uncertain question, and Nero hurried to back it up. “I mean, it’s better than it doing something stupid in the heat of battle and getting us killed.”

Dante stared at him, wide-eyed. He opened and closed his mouth, like a fish out of water. A few moments of silence passed where they uncomfortably stared at each other, and Dante’s expression seemed stuck between hopeful and concerned. “Are you sure you’d be okay with that?”

“Honestly? No. But, if it keeps everything with you…” He made a vague gesture with his hand at Dante. “In check, I guess, then I’ll deal with it. Plus, I’d rather it do what it wants here and now than jump me after a tough mission.”

Deep down, he wished that doing this meant more than making sure that Dante didn’t lose focus in battle. That it was just as intimate as Dante had implied, and not just a… a  _ procedure  _ they needed to go through to keep Dante from jumping his bones. But if he got even a few minutes of chaotic pampering, where Dante’s attention was focused solely on him, he would be happy.

Dante blew a raspberry and rose from the couch, rolling his shoulders. “Hell, I can’t think of anything better. C’mon, I don’t want to explain this to Lady or Vergil if they walk in.”

Nero watched, wide-eyed, as Dante circled the couch and started going up the stairs. When Dante sent him a smirk with a raised brow, Nero scrambled to his feet and followed a few paces behind, completely blown away that Dante was accepting his idea.

Actually, scratch that, he wasn’t. Dante would accept a plan made by Patty if he couldn’t think of anything halfway decent. What was most surprising was that Nero was going along with it, instead of saying thet it was stupid, or a joke.

“Your room, or mine?” Dante asked from the top of the stairs, and Nero felt better at having that bit of autonomy in this whole, half-baked idea. 

“Mine.” Nero replied. If he was going to have Dante’s demon push him around like one of the nuns he had to deal with while living in the orphanage, he’d rather have all of this happen while in the comfort of his own room than be surrounded by nothing but Dante, Dante, and more Dante.

Dante nodded at him to show he heard, then went through the door on his right. Nero entered a few paces behind as Dante pulled his jacket off and tossed it into the corner. Red energy crackled down the hunter’s arms, and he heard Dante hiss as he closed the door behind him. He rubbed his hands together, bouncing from foot to foot, and Nero couldn’t blame him. If it weren’t for the fact that he felt like he was a minute away from shitting a brick, he’d be doing the same thing.

“Last chance to back out.” Dante called over his shoulder.

Nero gave him a cocky grin, hiding some of his nerves. “Not a chance.”

Dante barked out a laugh and turned around, spreading his arms. There was a slight, scared glint in his eyes that betrayed his confident act. “Alright then! Smack me if I go too far.”

_ Didn’t you say that wouldn’t work the next time? _ Nero thought, but Dante was swallowed by a bright, crimson light, and his Triggered form hovered in the center of the room.

Nero took an instinctive step back at the waves of energy rolling off Dante, reaching for Blue Rose only to remember that both his gun  _ and _ Red Queen were downstairs in pieces. Pressing his lips together, Nero inched towards the door, reminding himself that it was only closed, and he could run for it if Dante’s demon went too far. Taking care of the shop over the year Dante’d been gone lead to Nero learning the layout of the surrounding city, and he knew plenty of shortcuts and side roads he could take to shake Dante off his tail.

Problem was that Dante had worked in the city for more than a decade, so he’d likely know every path Nero could take. Besides, Nero doubted he’d be able to lose an angry, determined demon that could fly as fast as a small jet by taking a few shortcuts down an alley.

“Okay, big guy.” Nero held up his hands, palms facing up. “Let’s take this slow—”

Dante darted forward and slammed into Nero, pressing him up against the wall. A hot puff of breath fanned over Nero’s face, and he did his best to lean backwards, only to have nowhere to go. Nero’s own demonic energy flared in response, but he forcibly held back from giving a reaction greater than a cough. “Seriously? Couldn’t brush your teeth before doing this?”

In the past, Nero knew how to read Dante even when he was triggered. Sure, he was scale-covered and would make snarls and growls, but he was still human enough to be able to tell what he was thinking. He’d pat Nero’s back after a job well done, laugh at any of Nero’s quips and comments, give him a fang-filled grin before changing back. Nero had accepted that, even if he looked different, Dante was still Dante.

This new form, on the other hand, was purely demonic, and there wasn’t much of Dante’s normal attitude and tells to be found. This new form meant business, and beyond Dante being able to open and close his mouth, there wasn’t much expressiveness either. Even Dante’s eyes were different—before, Dante had yellow irises in a sea of red, but now they were pure yellow and burned with the same energy that Dante gave off like a fountain. Combine that with the fact that Dante was more than likely wasn’t in control, and Nero had no clue what to expect from this.

Maybe he  _ should  _ have backed out when Dante offered it. 

A low rumble came from deep within Dante’s chest, and his hand darted up towards Nero’s face. In an instant, Nero’s spectral arms manifested and grabbed Dante’s wrists, trying to push him away. Nero gritted his teeth, fully prepared to fight Dante off, or at least get him to let go.

A few seconds passed where Nero fully expected Dante to push forward and end up slicing up his face with his claws, but he just… stood there. Dante’s sharp teeth clicked together, and he let out a surprisingly high croon, leaning forward to nuzzle Nero’s cheek.

_ What the fuck. _

Nero reached up with his human arm and placed it on Dante’s forehead, pushing him back. Surprisingly, Dante went with the motion without complaint, despite the fact he was probably a good two hundred pounds heavier than Nero and could probably snap his neck with a twist of his wrist.

“You were a hell of a lot more pushy after the fight.” Nero commented, and Dante whined, pressing against his palm like a cat who wanted pets. Nero let out an incredulous chuckle, but didn’t give him any leeway. “If you go  _ slow,  _ I’ll let you do what you want. Understood?”

Dante didn’t say ‘yes,’ but he also didn’t growl or fight against Nero’s hold, so that was a positive sign. Nero  carefully loosened his grip on Dante’s arms, but didn't let go, ready to push back if he needed to. Surprising him once again, Dante slowly moved forward, his claws brushing through Nero’s hair. They were razor sharp and blazing hot, but once Nero got over his initial discomfort (which consisted of stomping down his fight or flight instincts to keep himself still), the feeling was… actually kind of nice.

Granted, he wouldn’t seek it out regularly, but Dante’s demon made an effort not to pull at knots or accidentally slam his head into the wall. The bar was on the floor, and, thankfully, Dante had yet to trip over it.

Once Dante finished combing through his hair, he looked at Nero’s spectral arms and tilted his head, a puff of steam leaving his mouth. He turned his arm left and right, Nero’s spectral arm moving along with the motion. 

Nero had to refrain from smiling, Dante’s actions reminding him of some of the younger kids on Fortuna who were fascinated with his Devil Bringer. “Yes, those are mine. Please don’t rip them off, I can feel through them.”

Dante brought the spectral arm closer for inspection, his wings flapping lightly behind him. When he finally realized that they were covered in feathers, he let out a surprisingly high-pitched trill and abruptly pulled Nero off the door. Before Nero could say anything in protest, Dante took his hand off Nero’s hip and placed it directly between his shoulder blades, shoving him to the floor.

If Nero was human, the impact likely would’ve shattered his kneecaps. Thankfully, it only sent a very uncomfortable pain up his knees, and would probably result in some bruising later on. Nero growled, looking over his shoulder as his spectral arms snapped back, their claws digging into Dante’s chest. “What the fuck, asshole!”

Dante, obviously, did not care about Nero shouting or the claws currently trying to rip into his pecs. He plopped down right behind Nero, which forced Nero to let go as his arms were twisted into an awkward position. Dante took the opportunity to grab Nero’s spectral hands, lacing their fingers together as he began to growl.

“Don’t get pissed at me, you’re the one who shoved me!” Nero pulled his spectral hands out of Dante’s hold, letting them settle on his shoulders as he watched Dante. If anything, his growls increased as he leaned forward, hands reaching out. “Don’t even think about it asshole, you  _ don’t—!” _

Dante raked his nails through the mess of feathers on his arms, and Nero let out a startled moan, slapping his hand over his mouth. Dante let out quick series of huffs (was he  _ laughing _ at him?) and scooted closer, wrapping his wings around them protectively. Nero tried to move his spectral arms, but they were firmly clamped on his shoulders, twitching fitfully at the myriad of new sensations.

Nero tried to stand up, if only to turn around and yell directly at Dante instead of over his shoulder. Dante huffed at him, pressing down with the hand still between his shoulder blades to keep him there, while his other hand ruffled through his feathers. His wings twitched as Dante carded through the short, fluffy feathers near his shoulders and, to Nero’s utter mortification, his dick was starting to take interest in whatever was happening.

And in that brief moment between bliss and embarrassment, Nero had a moment of clarity.

Dante wasn’t growling, he was  _ purring. _

“Y-You piece of sh-shit…!” Nero grit his teeth to force back the noises that threatened to break free. He curled into himself, trying to hold back but inadvertently showing Dante more of his wings. “Don’t… Don’t you dare enjoy this!”

Of course, Dante took him showing his back as a clear invitation to do whatever he wanted, and proceeded to drag his claws harshly through his feathers, snagging a few that were broken or crooked and pulling them out. The mix of phantom pleasure-pain nearly catapulted Nero directly to the edge, and he desperately gasped for air, pulling his hand away from his mouth only to dig his lengthened nails into the hardwood floor.

Shit, if he didn’t keep a hold of himself, he’d end up triggering and completely losing himself. He didn’t want to imagine what it would be like—fully triggered and at Dante’s mercy, or lost as his instincts took over, making him perform actions that meant nothing in the long run.

And really, that was what hurt the most. This was just Dante on full auto-pilot, at the whims of whatever his demon wanted, and Nero having an involuntary reaction fueled by his idiotic pining. The only reason why this happened in the first place was because Dante’s demon was either a neat freak, completely obsessive, or both, and a few wires got crossed in its primitive brain along the way. According to Dante, this didn't mean a thing.

And yet, as Dante made one final pass between his wings, directly down his spine, Nero’s vision whited out as he came with the thought  _ oh god I love him _ running through his mind, like the fucking fool he was.

Seconds passed. Or, maybe minutes. He couldn’t tell, gathering his breath while lost in a post-orgasmic haze, but also swimming in his own despair. His wings twitched behind him, clutching his shoulders like a lifeline. Nero’s nails had scratched lines in the floorboards at some point, and Nero honestly couldn’t tell if he’d lost control of himself, or if he partially triggered at some point.

Dante’s wings were still wrapped around the two of them like a cocoon, keeping Nero warm and emphasizing the sticky mess he’d made in his pants. Nero grit his teeth and tried to ignore the sting behind his eyes, flinching away when he felt Dante nuzzle the back of his head.

Dante made a noise that rose in pitch, trying to place his hand on Nero’s back. It was a struggle for Nero to get his spectral arms to let go of his shoulders, and even harder to shove Dante away. His gut twisted when Dante made a distressed whine, trying to move closer, but Nero turned and pushed him back, batting at Dante’s wings as well. “Fuck  _ off!” _

He let out another whine, but his wings pulled back. There was a red flash, and the temperature of the room dropped a few degrees as Dante de-triggered. Nero curled forward, placing one of his hands over his crotch to hide the wet stain that  _ had _ to be forming. And if sitting like this on the floor hid his hurt expression from Dante, well… it was an added bonus.

“I… kid?” Dante asked, and Nero heard him lurch forward. “Shit, Nero—”

“Get out.” Nero said, lifting his head just enough so that Dante could understand him. When Nero didn’t hear anything, he commanded his shaking spectral arms to raise above his head, the claws flexing menacingly. “Leave!”

The floorboards creaked as Dante leaned back, then walked away, opening and closing the door quickly. With him gone, Nero dismissed his spectral arms and rolled onto his side, tucking his face into the crook as he did his best not to cry. 

And yet, there he was, muffling his sobs into the sleeves of his coat, his overwhelmed body shivering from the cold loneliness seeping deep into his bones.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tension in the Devil May Cry office was so thick, Nero could cut it with Red Queen. He and Nero weren’t talking, and when one of them entered a room, the other left. They weren’t exactly subtle about it, but neither of them knew how to address the elephant in the room.

In the aftermath, Nero refused to leave his room. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, and couldn’t bear to look Dante in the eye after…  _ that. _ Despite the brief moments of bliss the entire situation brought him, Nero felt like the scum of the earth. He hadn’t felt this bad about anything since his Devil Bringer got ripped off, and that was something Nero had no direct say in.

No, Nero made this shit-covered bed, now he had to lay in it.

The morning light faded to the afternoon, then burned brightest as the sun began to set. Nero, covered in dried sweat and cum, finally pushed himself off his bedroom floor and stripped, throwing on baggy clothes that he saved for particularly lazy days. Right now, he couldn’t be bothered to put on a proper outfit—wasn’t like he was going anywhere.

He entertained the thought of a shower, but swiftly dismissed it. He knew that, if he got under the harsh spray of water, he wouldn’t be able to leave it, his energy already too low. He could just wipe off the worst of the stains with his dirty clothes, throw them into the hamper, and go to the laundromat tomorrow.

His stomach rumbled and, on autopilot, he went towards his door, pausing with his hand hovering over the doorknob. To get to the kitchen, he had to go downstairs, through the main room, and past Dante.

Could he do that? Could he look Dante in the eye, and pretend that nothing happened? He was certain that’s what the old man would do, but could he pull off the same indifference?

What would be worse if Dante, the complete blockhead he was, decided to confront him. Dante could never say things delicately when he was in a  _ good  _ mood, so he doubted Dante being upset would be any better. Nero was, arguably, worse. Abrasive, dumb, and completely selfish, Nero would only end up dragging this whole situation out and end up hurting both of them even more.

Nero pulled his hand away from the door and took a few steps back for good measure. He wasn’t even that hungry—could just be nausea, for all he knew, his body was dumb like that—and if he got desperate, he probably had some snack bags hanging around. He wasn’t a complete slob like Dante, but he wasn’t a clean freak either, and he liked having a snack or two nearby in case he got the sudden urge to eat.

He’d be fine, he rationalized as he laid down on his bed. The sun slowly sank past the horizon, casting deep, golden lines across the walls. He’d be fine. Give himself the evening to think, get over it, give himself and Dante some space, and wait for it to blow over. Should be easy enough.

* * *

Before everything went down, Nero lined up a couple of minor jobs over the next few days and, as far as he knew, so did Dante. All Nero had to do was get dressed, go downstairs, and then out the door. On a normal day, he would’ve gone through his normal morning routine without a care in the world, gotten a bowl of cereal, then left. Maybe shout that he was heading out—an old habit he just couldn’t shake.

But the entire night, his dreams had been plagued by dreams of Dante leering over him, his teeth sharp as he leaned down, nipping at his throat. His claws tore thin, red lines down his back, the pain and pleasure mixing together an alluring cocktail that made his head spin.

“Such pretty sounds,” Dante whispered into his ear. “I wonder what else I can get you to sing?”

Nero woke up with his dick so hard, he could hammer nails with it. He had to shuffle into the bathroom and hope that Dante wasn’t around to see him. He took shower and turned the dial all the way to cold, shivering pitifully as the spray felt like hail pellets. It didn’t take long for his dick to soften after that. 

Finally clean of the prior day’s filth, Nero dried himself off and put on his clothes. He took a steadying breath before going downstairs, hoping that Dante was either still asleep in his room, or out of the shop.

Getting to the bottom of the stairs, Nero had his questions answered. Dante was spread haphazardly across the couch, passed out, a bottle of nearly-empty whiskey dangling from his hand. Nero winced, tip-toeing his way to the kitchen. The floor was littered with beer bottles, all empty, and the scent of booze and liquor burned his nose.

To his complete surprise, he found both Red Queen and Blue Rose on Dante’s desk, sparkling clean and put together. He examined both of them, paying special attention to his sword’s engine since it was a custom build, with plenty of small parts that could easily be lost. From what he could tell, it was okay, but he’d still check it before he went on the job he had lined up for the day.

As he made his breakfast (slowly, as it was almost impossible to pour a bowl of cereal quietly), he felt incredibly guilty. He knew that Dante went out to drink occasionally, and when Dante and Vergil were both in Hell, Nero had to clean up all the trash Dante left behind, which included  _ many _ beer bottles. However, he’d never seen Dante passed out drunk before. 

Hell, he didn’t even know it was  _ possible. _ When he turned 21, Dante told him that it wasn’t worth going out to drink for any reason other than politeness, as his body would burn through any alcohol he drank. Said that it was a ‘double-edged sword,’ since that also meant his body could burn through any human-made poisons with barely any side-effects.

So the fact that Nero’s actions had drove Dante to drink to the point where his body couldn’t keep up and forced him to pass out was… telling. 

He took his time eating and, once he finished, he placed his bowl in the sink. He drummed his fingers against the countertop before grabbing a glass, tip-toeing past Dante once again to head back upstairs. 

Entering the bathroom, Nero filled the glass with cold tap water and opened the cabinet above the sink, taking a bottle of painkillers he kept there, just in case. Like alcohol, they didn’t exactly work, and were only useful to chew on, like gum. 

Unlike alcohol (which Nero never really bothered with, he wasn’t all that interested in getting drunk in the first place), Nero had plenty of experience with how useless painkillers were. When Vergil ripped off his Devil Bringer, the hospital staff had tried giving him morphine to help manage his pain in the aftermath. The instructions stated that he could only take a certain amount of pills per day, but he’d only get about ten, twenty minutes of relief before the it would start up again. That first week without his arm was torturous, and he never wanted to go through something as painful as that again.

Well… he clearly failed that.

The painkillers in the cabinet were over-the-counter, so if morphine barely affected Nero, simple ibuprofen wouldn’t do a damn thing. It was more of a courtesy thing for clients that had already been attacked than something useful for him and Dante.

Still, he poured four pills into his palm and made his way downstairs once again. He placed the glass and pills on the coffee table in front of Dante’s still-prone form, hopefully in a spot that Dante would see when he woke up. One that was done, Nero gently pulled the whiskey bottle from Dante’s hand, placing it on the floor.

Nero looked at Dante, his hair falling over his eyes, his expression peaceful. Nero bit the inside of his cheek and tentatively reached out to brush the loose strands away, his hand hovering just a few inches away from his face. 

Even in the mid-morning light, smelling like crap and completely dishevelled, Dante was beautiful. Nero would be hard-pressed to deny it, and he knew that there were better, beautiful people out there that would be far more worthy, far  _ better _ for Dante.

Something ugly inside him twisted at the thought—Dante, being with someone else, someone that wasn’t him?—but Nero stomped it down and did his best to ignore it. He pulled his hand away, making a fist, and headed out the door.

The job, despite the fact it was the easiest job he had lined up for the week, was infuriatingly difficult to complete. It was a small nest of Empusas that, somehow, managed to hide even a year after the Qliphoth’s fall. They’d started lashing out against humans that drew close to their nest, and Nero got hired by an old woman who’d noticed the pattern of disappearances. 

Human law enforcement was utterly  _ pathetic _ most of the time.

Empusas were easy to take out, and easy to make sure they wouldn’t come back, especially since this pack was small in number (Nero counted six, all of them red). However, throughout the entire fight, Nero couldn’t focus, and it made a simple mission frustratingly complicated. One moment, he’d be running at an Empusa, ready to cleave it in two, and the next his thoughts were filled with the prior day’s events. To his dreams, to Dante sleeping away on the couch, to his triggered form radiating heat and raw power, cutting through Arachnes like they were paper.

He took far more hits than he should have. His fighting was sloppy, he wasn’t nearly as efficient, and it felt like his body and mind were out of sync. His coat and shirt were covered in slash marks and blood, a majority of it his own, which only annoyed him further. A simple job shouldn’t have ended with him looking like he barely survived a slasher film.

Standing in front of the Devil May Cry office, Nero took a grounding breath. He hoped that Dante was still passed out, or that he was dealing with a client, or that he’d maybe left the shop for some reason. Maybe he went out to get groceries, or went to a restaurant of ordering in.

Opening the door, Nero cursed his own naivety when he saw Dante awake, sitting at his desk. Why did he assume Dante would be an active member of society?

A quick scan over the office showed that Dante had, most likely, just gotten up from the couch and moved to his chair, propping his feet up and leaning back. A magazine was thrown over his face, though Nero couldn’t tell if it was because it fell there after Dante fell asleep, or if he had a hangover and was trying to keep the light out.

Honestly, what surprised Nero the most was that the glass of water he’d left for Dante was also on his desk, now empty. The painkillers were also missing, but couldn’t tell if they’d been thrown out or taken. Maybe Dante tossed everything down the sink.

“Hey.” Dante called from his chair, lifting up the magazine with his thumb so that his eyes were barely visible.

“…Hey.” Nero said back, the tension between them so thick, Nero could cut it with Red Queen.

“Tough job?” There was an echo behind Dante’s voice, and Nero swore he could see a flash of red in the shadows of his face.

“Yeah, something like that.” They both knew what jobs Nero had lined up. Dante and him usually discussed who was doing what at the beginning of the week, mostly so that they didn’t end up taking the same thing and wasting resources. If Dante didn’t know something was up before, he definitely knew now.

Not that Nero made a grand effort to hide it, but still.

“Do you want me to take some for you?” Dante asked, and Nero felt his jaw tense, anger simmering in his gut.

“I’m fine.” He practically growled, stomping up the stairs to his bedroom. He didn’t need Dante babying him on top of everything else.

He slammed his bedroom door behind him, and paced back and forth, stripping his bloodied clothes as he moved. He ripped his laundry bag out of his closet, emptying his hamper and throwing it over his shoulder. He made a brief detour into the bathroom, washing the blood off himself before throwing on a new shirt and pants, then went downstairs.

“Going out.” He shouted over his shoulder, not even looking at Dante before leaving the shop. The laundromat was a five minute walk from the shop, just far away enough for Nero to feel comfortable.

He sat on the bench in front of the washing machine, watching the detergent bubble into a soapy froth and the wet clothes spin round and round. There wasn’t much in the near-empty laundromat to keep his mind occupied, and he had to start reciting lectures from his nuns to keep his mind off of what Dante’s hands felt like carding through his hair, combing his feathers, the puffs of warm breath against the back of his neck.

He spent the next hour keeping his arm pressed hard against his dick in a vain attempt to get it to calm down, and he knew he was well and truly screwed.

* * *

The worst part about this whole thing, Nero thought as he folded his laundry in his bedroom, was that they couldn’t really  _ talk _ about it.

Now, Nero knew he was better than both Dante and Vergil when it came to talking things out. Their entire history together was proof enough, and Nero often played mediator whenever he walked in on their arguments. Maybe it was because he dealt with children, or maybe just the fact that his life was, overall, probably better than whatever they’d gone through in the past, but Nero was really the only one that could look at his emotions and deal with them in a way that didn’t level the city.

Which also meant that, if he and Dante were going to talk about what happened, Nero would be the one who needed to initiate the conversation. And he absolutely didn’t want to do that, because not only was it embarrassing, but it was also something that would clearly paint him as a fucking  _ freak. _

Not only was he pining after his uncle, something he only realised after what had to be the most embarrassing orgasm of his  _ life, _ but he got off on something that, by all means, shouldn’t have. Grooming was the demon equivalent of taking a bath or-or brushing someone else’s hair, right? Who the fuck got off from getting their hair brushed?

Besides, what would that conversation even sound like? “Hey Dante, sorry I yelled at you and pushed you away, I was just embarrassed after I came in my pants after your demon cleaned through my wings, which I didn’t know I was into! By the way, I’m also in love with you, and I feel like I used the entire situation to manipulate you into a one-night stand. Do you want to go out sometime, even though I’m a living pile of trash that gets off to completely innocent shit?”

Yeah, right, that’d be an easy way to make Dante kick him out. He didn’t mind living with Kyrie and Nico again, but… he liked working in the city, and he didn’t mind taking care of the shop. Vergil only lived half an hour away in his own apartment, and he didn’t mind sharing the place with Dante (current circumstances notwithstanding). He had his family, he had a career he loved, and he didn’t want to let that go.

So, essentially, Nero was currently experiencing his own personal hell, and there was no easy solution to get out of it, because he didn’t have the balls to deal with it himself, and Dante never learned how to talk out his issues.

Fucking  _ great. _

* * *

“I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you, of all people, to call.” Trish teased over the phone line. “Is the world ending again?”

Nero grumbled into the phone’s receiver, just barely hearing Trish chuckle. She did have a point—Nero didn’t talk to her or Lady that much, mostly because they managed their own devil hunting business in a different city and Nero didn’t travel much. They only came to celebrate big jobs or, in Lady’s case, to harass Dante into paying off his debts. 

Plus, after their initial meeting when she was disguised as Gloria, she left a strong impression on him. That impression was: don’t ever piss her off, because she’ll probably snap your neck with her thighs.

But Nero needed help understanding what happened from someone who understood demonic behavior. Dante was obviously  _ not _ an option but, even if he were, Nero woke up that morning to find that he’d already left for the day. Vergil could’ve been a good pick, but Nero would sooner drop dead than ask him about  _ any  _ of this. Nico knew a fair amount about demons, but he doubted she’d help him. She’d probably end up mocking him, or hold the info over his head so that she could watch him suffer. 

So his only option was Trish, the only other person that knew about demons who would hopefully give him an honest answer.

“Last time I checked, no, but I think we’d need something like that to fix this whole mess.” Nero replied, leaning back in Dante’s chair (he wasn’t there to complain, and it wasn’t like he’d  _ know _ Nero was in his chair). He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll just jump right into it—what does it mean when a demon wants to groom you?”

A few seconds passed, then Trish laughed so hard Nero had to pull the speaker away from his ear. Nero scowled, but waited for her to stop, not wanting to annoy her into hanging up.

It took a while, but she eventually calmed down. “Oh, you poor soul. Who asked?”

“Who else?” Nero shrugged. “Look, Dante said his demon was bugging him about it, and I agreed to let him do what he wanted, and now things are… uh…”

“Intimate? Cozy?”

_ “Trish.” _ Nero groaned.

She laughed. “So, was this your first time being groomed, or first time grooming someone else?”

“B-Being groomed.”

“And was it as…” Trish lowered her voice to something almost  _ sultry _ .  _ “Sensual _ as you were lead to believe?”

Nero spluttered. “You’re making it sound like we… y’know...!”

“Had sex?” Nero made a strangled noise, much to Trish’s amusement. “Well, that’s something it  _ could _ be. For demons, anyways.” Nero felt the blood drain from his face. After a few moments of silence, Trish spoke again, her teasing tone gone. “Nero, how did Dante explain grooming to you?”

“That’s why I called you.” Nero sat up, leaning his elbows on the edge of Dante’s desk. “He did say it was a mate thing, but he also said it didn’t mean anything, so I let him do what he needed to do and… I mean, it felt  _ good, _ he didn’t break anything, but now things are… weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Dante avoids me whenever he can and… well, I’m not any better.” Nero groaned. “It’s so stupid—if he said it didn’t mean anything, he shouldn’t be so upset over it.”

“Probably because it  _ did _ mean something. To him, at the very least.” Trish sighed. “I can tell you a few things for certain. Grooming is a  _ mate  _ activity, and it means a lot to the demons doing it. Most demons are born with the innate knowledge of how to clean themselves. Even those that aren’t eventually learn how during the first months they’re alive, and they do it on their own. Having someone else groom you is a sign that they care, and they’re willing to trust you so much that you’d show your back to them.”

“So… why lie to me about it? Or, why tell me that it didn’t mean anything?”

“Oh, Nero…” Trish chuckled, though he could detect some sadness behind it. “Dante… doesn’t quite know how to handle his emotions. Grooming is an intimate act between demon mates and, if I know him well, he lied because he didn’t know how you’d feel about it, didn’t want to chase you off, and he didn’t think that it would impact you this much afterwards.”

Nero felt heat rise to his cheeks, but he couldn’t tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. “It didn’t  _ affect _ me, I just want to know how to make him stop moping around. He looks like he constantly has a lemon in his mouth and he’s trying his hardest to not make a face.”

“I’d say it affected you pretty hard—you called  _ me _ for advice, after all.” Nero opened his mouth in protest, but Trish spoke again before he could. “Plus, you seem to care about his emotional state a lot. The Nero I know would just let him stew in his own, self-made mess.”

Nero groaned, pressing his forehead against the cool wood of Dante’s desk, hearing Trish’s chuckles on the other end of the line. “You’re not _ helping.” _

“Try talking to him about it, if you can get him to stop pouting for more than five seconds.” Trish teased. “If that doesn’t work, try grooming him. After all, actions speak louder than words.”

Nero groaned, moving the receiver as close as he could to his mouth so Trish could feel his suffering, and dropped the phone back on its handle.

* * *

The day passed, and Nero was left alone to stew with his thoughts. The sun crawled its way across the sky, and Nero eventually caved and decided to do some cleaning in the shop. 

During the year Dante and Vergil were in Hell, Nero was the one that kept the place looking respectable. Morrison only cared that he had the deed, and Lady and Trish couldn’t care less about how Devil May Cry looked with their own business out of town, so that left the shop’s upkeep to Nero. 

Honestly, he didn’t really mind. Sure, he felt like a glorified maid, and he would’ve loved it if he was getting paid, but he was essentially living in his own home so he had to keep it clean. Plus, sweeping the floors and doing other, minor chores in the downtime between jobs gave him something to pass time with and kept him happy, so it was a win-win.

Long story short, Nero started sweeping the floors, then moved on to doing the dishes, and when he clicked out of the zone the sky was dark and Dante still hadn’t returned. Nero’s stomach rumbled, and he put down the dish he’d been scrubbing to head back into the office, dialing the number for the nearby pizzeria.

Order placed and left to wait, Nero rolled his neck and decided to take a break, sitting in Dante’s chair again. It definitely wasn’t a  _ comfy _ chair, mostly wood with minimal cushioning, but it was tolerable. Still, he definitely couldn’t picture himself sitting back in this thing for hours on end like Dante did.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Nero heard the doorknob click, and then push open. Dante sighed and shook his head, his eyes tiredly roving over the room before finally landing on Nero. 

It was like a switch had been flipped. Dante’s sagging shoulders suddenly rose and tensed, his grip on the doorknob tightened, and overall he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. A few precious, awkward seconds of silence stretched out before Dante nudged the door closed, the creaking of its rusty hinges sounding more like that high-pitched whistle movies put in to tell the audience “hey, a bomb’s about to drop!”

“Hey.” Nero called from the chair.

“…Hey.” Dante replied, and god, Nero fucking  _ hated _ this. Things needed to change. They needed to talk things out, like Trish suggested—like he should’ve done  _ ages _ ago instead of letting this stupid situation stretch on.

“I ordered pizza.” He offered instead. “Everything but olives. Should be here in, I don’t know, five, ten minutes?”

“Cool.” Dante put his hands in his coat pockets. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Nero leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I was hungry, so I figured I’d just stay down here and grab a slice when it gets here.”

“That’s fine.” Dante adjusted his weight. “Do you… want me to sit on the couch, or…?”

“Nah, you can have this back.” Nero stood up and moved around the desk, sighing as he flopped onto the couch’s lumpy, springy cushions. “This is  _ way  _ comfier than the chair.”

Dante smiled at him and walked past him, heading to the jukebox in the corner. He flipped through the records and lightly punched it to get it working, then turned around and sat at his desk. It took a few seconds for the song to start up, the music scratchy and muted through the old speakers, an oddly familiar comfort.

So of course, because things were nice and amicable between them, Nero had to open his big fat mouth. “So, about the other day…”

Dante groaned, throwing his head back over the edge of the chair. It was a movement that reminded Dante of himself all those years ago, forced to sit through His Holiness’ sermons. “Nero…”

“I just wanted to let you know—”

“Kid.” Dante nearly growled, his voice echoing with distortion. “Just… drop it. It was a dumb thing, and I shouldn’t have done it. It went too far, and I should’ve been able to keep a better hold on my myself. Can we just move on?”

Nero opened his mouth to argue, but a knock came from the front door. Nero never thought he’d be upset at a fast pizza delivery, but here he was. With an annoyed grumble, Nero stood from the couch and ripped the front door open, grabbing the pizza box and shoving two, wadded-up twenties into the delivery boy’s chest.

Nero tossed it onto Dante’s desk, the older hunter lifting his legs then swung them down, his chair falling forward with a harsh thump. Licking his lips and rubbing his hands together, Dante opened it up and pulled a slice free, watching the warm cheese stretch and pull with glee.

_ I’m trying to have a serious conversation with a child, _ Nero realized. He nearly growled, his fingers twitching restlessly by his sides. He knew Dante had a point, and that things looked different to him, but the thought of marching over and beating some sense into him was incredibly tempting.

Instead, he placed his left hand on Dante’s desk, threw his legs over and sat on top of it. Dante paused mid-chew as Nero grabbed a slice, leaning forward and glaring at the older hunter as he started eating.

Dane swallowed hastily. “Can I help you?”

“You can help me by not avoiding the problem.” Nero glared at Dante, who rolled his eyes and turned his head, lifting his pizza slice to his mouth.

With an annoyed growl, Nero summoned his spectral arms and grabbed Dante’s wrists. The older hunter gave him an annoyed glare, but Nero barreled onward.  _ “Dante.” _

_ “What.”  _ Dante tried to pull his wrists free, but Nero tightened his grip in response. “I said I was sorry, and that we should just move on. It was dumb, it didn’t mean anything, it’s  _ over.” _

“That’s not what Trish said.” Nero showed his hand and Dante’s face paled a few shades. “Yeah, asshole. I called her while you were out. Asked her what all the grooming stuff meant, since you didn’t want to tell me anything.”

Dante looked well and truly panicked now, the fingers of his free hand twitching restlessly. “Kid—”

_ “No.” _ Nero let a bit of his demonic energy seep into his voice, giving it an edge that had Dante stilling under his grasp. “You aren’t running away from this, and I’m not chasing you away, either.”

Nero put his pizza slice down in the box and scooted forward until he was nearly off the desk. With slow, deliberate carefulness, he placed his hand on top of Dante’s head, gently running his fingers through his hair, taking care to untangle the knots without pulling any strands out.

Dante dropped his pizza slice and looked at Nero with such longing that he felt his heart clench in his chest. “Nero…”

“If you’d just  _ told _ me…” Nero brought his other hand into the fray, combing through Dante’s hair with his fingers. “If you told me instead of making up that ‘oh, it doesn’t have to mean anything’ bullshit, we could’ve talked about this. I wouldn’t have shouted at you after the whole thing happened, because I thought it was just like… your parents brushing your hair, or something.”

“I didn’t think you’d… want that.” Dante shrugged, giving him that false easy-going grin that ground on Nero’s nerves. He managed to gesture at himself with his pinned hand. “Want  _ this.” _

“Well, maybe if you’d talked to me about this instead of making assumptions, you would’ve learned a few things.” Nero glared, but it was half-hearted at best. Dante carefully pushed against Nero’s spectral arms, and Nero slowly let go, flinching back when Dante lurched forward and hugged him, pressing his face against Nero’s stomach. Nero felt heat rise to his cheeks, and he curled forward with a sigh. “Guess we’re both idiots, then.”

Dante nodded and mumbled something against him. Nero chuckled and ruffled Dante’s hair, curling protectively over him as his wings wrapped around Dante’s back, taking care to not tear his shirt with his claws. He ran his fingers through Dante’s hair a final time, then draped his arms around Dante’s shoulders in a sort-of hug. 

The older hunter sank into his hold, tightening his grip for a brief second before sneaking his hands underneath Nero’s shirt. He ran them up his spine, mapping out the various scars he’d accumulated over the years. Nero rolled his eyes with a fond smile, “You don’t have to give me a massage to make up for it.”

Dante hummed and lifted his head, resting his chin on Nero’s stomach. “I’m just getting acquainted with what I’ll get to explore later.”

Nero laughed, and knew that they’d be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I satisfy no prompts, but I still wanted to post a sequel chapter and I didn't want to wait for the end of Daneroweek to do it lol.
> 
> TBH I couldn't get either prompt for Day 2 to resonate with me. Originally this was gonna end with sex but that felt... really awkward? Considering how the first chapter ended? Emotional closure jived better with me than having them fuck and make up.
> 
> Also, I may not do the fic for tomorrow, if only bc real life stuff may-or-may-not get in the way. Plus, I really really REALLY want to try and finish Day 4's fic, which I... still haven't done. I'll procrastinate til the very end, apparently.
> 
> Still! I hope you all enjoyed the second chapter, and I hope the rest of Danero Week goes well for everyone participating!

**Author's Note:**

> It is officially the 23rd in my timezone, so I figured that I would post my first work now!
> 
> Also, for any of you upset at that ending, fret not! A sequel chapter will be up tomorrow for Day 2 of Danero week where I absolutely do not satisfy any prompt well but I tried and wrote an ending and that’s what matters.


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